


On a Razor Edge

by Luthienberen



Series: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2018 [21]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Gregson has lost something of profound and damning value.





	On a Razor Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for July writing prompts. Prompt No. 27 Treasure Island. A character has lost something they value.
> 
>  
> 
> _I’m on a slight Gregson kick..?_

Gregson was frantic. Sweat beaded his back and only by dint of effort did he keep it from spotting his forehead. Anxiety was a heavy weight in his stomach and he could feel the phantom handcuffs becoming more material with every passing minute.

He searched behind the fireplace again, hoping that it would be there. In the other room he could hear Mr Holmes and Dr Watson also searching. Ever since the break-in (a Police Officer’s home nonetheless!) this morning Gregson had been on the razor blade edge of nervous anxiety.

Gregson had come quickly once summoned by the servants to find his uncle unconscious. The downstairs rooms had been ransacked. The butler had drawn him aside and whispered that he could not locate their books or wands.

Unless his unconscious uncle had succeeded in hiding them it was looking more like the burglar had known what to search for. Gregson knew that if it came down to it, he would persuade the courts his uncle did not practice magic and he was the sole magical practitioner (that is criminal) in the family.

At a loss, Gregson had called in the duo of Holmes and Watson under the guise of using the doctor’s services for his uncle and Mr Holmes to locate a precious family treasure.

Of course he hadn’t said what these treasures were beyond being books and Mr Holmes had clearly inferred something was amiss in his vague description, however, the private consulting detective out of long association had proceeded to search.

Normally they kept their books and wands secure in a box behind the fireplace. It was no longer there, so either his uncle had been checking through their supplies when surprised or the thief had gotten hold of the damning documents.

At least the crime of witchcraft was no longer punishable by death. Small mercies!

He could only pray that Mr Holmes’ bent application of justice would work in his case.

Rising from his position by the fireplace Gregson tried to remain calm, yet his heart was bursting in his chest and he was sick to his stomach.

“Inspector Gregson?”

Nearly jumping in nervous fright, Gregson faced a serious looking Mr Holmes, grey eyes unfathomable. Dr Watson stood beside his friend, eyes equally unreadable though his expression was not as stern. A tiny smile of reassurance tugged the corners of his mouth.

“Are these the items you were seeking so desperately?”

In those thin hands were the books he sought in all their convicting glory. Worse, there were his and and his uncle’s wands.

Meeting the eyes of the men who could send him to prison or face huge fines and loss of livelihood Gregson stood tall and proud.

“Yes.”

Mr Holmes actually smiled in approval.

“Good, you are firm in your convictions. Well Watson! What a situation we find ourselves in. What sentence shall we pass?”

Dr Watson cocked his head, keeping his gaze on his sorry form.

“I would say nothing since those books speak only of good magic and practices and decry evil in all its forms.”

“Then we have an accord.”

Holmes pushed the evidence into his hands and Gregson nearly fainted from disbelief and relief.

“Thank you…but why?”

“For the reasons Watson said and because I know you are a good man Inspector. I would advise greater caution in the future however.”

Gregson nodded numbly.

“Your uncle will recover, he merely requires bedrest and good food,” the good doctor added.

“Thank you Doctor. May I inquire where..?”

Holmes donned his hat and grinned. “Why, in the priest hole in your cellar! Seems that at one point your family were either Catholics or sympathetic.”

Gregson was confused. Priest hole? When had his family been Catholic? They had a lineage of witchcraft stretching back generations, though…there had been that family rumour of a sympathetic friendly priest.

Ah.

“I will be discussing the matter with my Uncle when he is well. Thank you Mr Holmes and Dr Watson, you truly both live up to your reputations. I will hold you both in my intentions.”

“Having a good…witch? Wizard?” Holmes shrugged and Gregson decided that this was one area it was best to leave the great detective silent on.

“On our side is always useful. Come Watson!”

The man swept out the room followed by his friend who heaved a great sigh in Gregson’s direction as he did so.

That finally lifted the pall of fear and tension from Gregson and he laughed until he cried, huddling his precious treasures to his chest and promising never to be so neglectful in their care ever again.


End file.
